A- Student

When the rest of the family went to New York, I got dropped off at Camp K-9. I'm a regular there (they love my name), but whenever I leave, they hand a report card to my parents. I'm sorry, I'm being graded? For being locked up in a kennel, made to play with other 30 lbs. or less dogs (ok, no comments from the peanut gallery, I AM actually still considered a small dog despite the growing size of my tail), forced to take a bath with their industrial shampoo, eat their bulk-bought food, and follow their arbitrary rules???

Apparently, I'm losing my luster. Normally, I get all 'Excellents' on my report card (yes, I'm graded like an elementary school student -- remember that? When you were a little kid, and it was all about getting an E, an S, or god forbid, a U???). Well, while I'm far from Unsatisfactory, on my latest report card, instead of an Excellent, I got a Very Good. And for what? For mealtimes.

Perhaps they don't know me well enough? That I am like a 130 pound actress, not fat, but certainly not uber-skinny, so spend most of my day pondering what to eat at the next meal and longing for carbohydrates, only to be greeted by the same low-fat fare (dry kibble for me; poached fish and steamed veggies for the actress). Meaning that I don't have time to be picky about my food because I'm in a perpetual state of starvation.

So no man, you can't diss me on something like 'mealtimes.' My attitude? Sure, it might constitute a U. But not the food, dude. Not the food.